


Broken Boy Vacation

by AuroraKant



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: (It is more of a theme but I wanted to add it), Aftermath of Forever Evil, Aftermath of Robin War, Brotherly Bonding, Damian Wayne Feels, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Damian Wayne’s Parent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Jason Todd Has Feelings, Melancholy, Religious Discussion, They all need hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28173339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraKant/pseuds/AuroraKant
Summary: Tim and Jason and Babs were mad at him, and Dick couldn’t even explain himself. Only Damian – oh, and how his heart had soared, learning that his boy was ALIVE! – had welcomed Dick back, and… and in his desperation Dick had proposed spending the holidays together. No presents, of course. No pressure to be overtly nice to each other. Just… what was left of their family together in one place.Tim had been the one who remembered Bruce’s skiing cabin up in Blue Ridge Mountains, and suddenly they had a plan.Dick returned from Spyral in the hopes of reconnecting with his family - what he found instead was a Bruce who had forgotten them all and brothers who expressed their grief through anger. This holiday was supposed to let them heal. But can you heal something as broken as them?
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Comments: 34
Kudos: 356
Collections: BatFam Winter Gift Exchange 2020





	Broken Boy Vacation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IthilGalad75](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IthilGalad75/gifts).



> Thanks so much [Marzu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marzue/pseuds/Marzue) for beta-ing!!! <3
> 
> The prompt:  
> Name: Ithil  
> Fav character: Nightwing  
> Three Favorite relationships (romo and non-romo marked) Robin, Red Hood and Alfred (all non romantic)  
> What are three things you love to see? (Think tropes or moods) found family, brotherly bonding, hurt/comfort

It had been Tim’s idea and now the young man wasn’t even here.

Dick looked at Jason in the seat next to him. The man sat silently, staring into the night as it passed by. Dick’s eyes wandered away from Jason until they found Damian asleep in the backseat, head leaning against the window of Dick’s rented Toyota.

Dick wasn’t sure if Tim’s presence would have eased the tension penetrating the air or if the headstrong teenager would only have made it worse. No, that was a mean thought – Dick would have loved it if Tim could have joined them. He really, really would have loved it.

But shortly before they left the Bunker, all their stuff already packed into the small vehicle – and yes,  _ Jason, _ Dick had chosen the Toyota on purpose, it was an inconspicuous car! – Tim had gotten a call about some League assassins being on the move… Dick had offered to stay behind as well and help Tim out, but one icy glare later and Dick had taken his seat behind the wheel, driving off into the oncoming evening.

He couldn’t… Dick was unable to say no to Tim. It just wasn’t in his blood. Instead, he was easily swayed in favor of the young man, simply because the guilt wouldn’t let him sleep at night. Sometimes the only thing Dick wished for was the ability to turn off his brain. Things would be so much easier if he could just stop being a self-sacrificing idiot. But judging by his own track-record that wouldn’t happen anytime soon.

So, now the Family-Holiday-Without-Bruce-Because-Bruce-Sold-His-Memories-Of-Their-Family-To-Save-The-Universe – or FHWBBBSHMOTFTSTU for short – would be just the three of them.  _ Great _ .

Dick was basically  _ vibrating _ from all the excitement.

His knuckles were turning white where they clutched the wheel, and Dick had to force himself to take a few calming breaths every now and then. His temper was a bit of a bitch recently, and Dick knew it was the stress, but that didn’t mean it made pushing it out of the way any easier.

They would reach the skiing cabin soon, and then Dick could vanish into his room and gather his thoughts. He would be able to re-center himself, and before morning came, Dick would be up and about searching for a tree they could use as a Christmas Tree. Or a Festive Tree.

None of them celebrated Christmas per say, religion something of a touchy subject in the Wayne family. Jason had been raised Catholic, at least Dick thought so. But other than that? Bruce was Jewish on his mother’s side, though Dick had never seen more than the Menorah Bruce inherited. Damian… Dick wasn’t sure what the League’s stance on religion was, and judging by Ra’s charming personality, Dick wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask.

And he himself? Well… The circus had been the wildest mixture of religions and traditions. They had danced during Yule, and they had prayed on Christmas, they had celebrated Yom Kippur and Chanukah… and some of them had followed the rules of Ramadan when the time came.

Sometimes he missed it, but over the years, Dick had come to love the winterly traditions of Wayne Manor as well. Alfred’s divine gingerbread cookies, the Anglican Church Alfred visited on the regular, the festive décor making the entire Manor sparkle and glitter, the tree each kid Bruce had taken in helping decorate, the Menorah that finally got to escape from storage…

Throughout his youth Dick had always found the Manor to be empty and cold, and every festive season that changed. For a few short weeks the entire place would be soft and warm, filled with the echoes of happy laughter.

Coming back from Spyral –  _ if only temporarily _ – that had been what Dick needed. What he craved.

His heart had ached for a warm hug from Bruce, the man clad in a horrible Christmas sweater. Dick’s soul had demanded the welcoming smells of ginger and cardamom and cinnamon and clove. He had craved this feeling of family, of home, of identity…

But Bruce didn’t remember him.  _ Them _ .

Tim and Jason and Babs were mad at him, and Dick couldn’t even explain himself. Only Damian – oh, and how his heart had soared, learning that his boy was  **ALIVE** ! – had welcomed Dick back, and… and in his desperation Dick had proposed spending the holidays together. No presents, of course. No pressure to be overtly nice to each other. Just… what was left of their family together in one place.

Tim had been the one who remembered Bruce’s skiing cabin up in Blue Ridge Mountains, and suddenly they had a plan.

Dick still wasn’t sure why Jason agreed.

Well, it was too late to wonder about it now, the lights of their car illuminating the wooden structure appearing in front of them. It had snowed the entire way up the mountain, and the log cabin was nestled into deep, fluffy blankets of snow.

It looked picturesque. Dream-like.

They would have to light the fireplace the moment they stepped inside, if they wanted even the slightest chance of a night spent comfortably warm. Otherwise they would have to snuggle to keep themselves from freezing to death.  _ Hah _ .

Dick stopped the car. His thoughts returned rather forcefully to the present, when Jason opened his door before Dick had even turned off the lights. A gust of ice-cold air blew in Dick’s face, but before Dick could say something, Jason had already closed the door behind him.

He forced himself to take another couple of calming breaths as he watched the hulking back of his younger brother vanish into the cabin. This wasn’t worth a fight. Jason was only doing it to annoy him, and Dick was too proud to let Jason see that it was working.

Instead, Dick turned around, ready to wake Damian up and tell him that they had reached their destination. The boy in the backseat was already sitting up, however, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Hey, Dami. We’re here. The great Wayne Family Skiing Lodge– or as I like to call it: A cabin in the woods.”

“Is that one of your inane movie references, Richard?”

“Maybe…”

It was nice talking with someone who wasn’t mad at you. Or who wasn’t a spy.  _ Or both _ . With Damian… Damian was just his little brother, his boy, and… Every time Dick looked at Damian, he was once again overwhelmed by pure emotion. Damian was alive. Damian was well. Damian was breathing and eating and sleeping and fighting and… Dick just loved him so much, sometimes it hurt to look at him.

For a moment silence filled the tiny space between them, but then Damian continued to speak:

“You shouldn’t let Todd treat you like this.”

“I thought you liked him?”

Damian simply raised an eyebrow before he spoke:

“Me tolerating Todd has nothing to do with the fact that he shouldn’t treat you like this. It is childish at best, unbecoming of an associate of father’s at worst.”

“It’s good to know you care, Dami.”

“Don’t call me that, Richard, and now let us go: We need to defend our preferred sleeping chambers from Todd’s greedy hands.”

With these words Damian slipped from the car as well. Another gust of cold air hit Dick, causing a shudder to run down his spine. It was cold outside, and he feared it would freeze his insides as well, should they fail to find a way to mend their family soon.

Dick was quick to follow Damian. His body wasn’t prepared for the all-encompassing cold of the outside world, after five hours spent behind the wheel of a well isolated car. His boots sank deep into the snow covering the small space in front of the cabin, and the pine trees were dark and daunting shadows making it impossible to see the sky.

Each step he took made a small crunching noise, the snow heavy and fresh. Judging by the weather forecast Dick had heard in the car, it would continue to snow the upcoming days. A white Christmas – now they only needed to force themselves to enjoy it.

He pulled his own stuff from the trunk, a bag full of food and drinks slung over his shoulder, when the door to the cabin opened once more, and Jason appeared. He was illuminated from behind, the light of the cabin creating a halo around his figure, warmth bleeding into the darkness of the mountains.

It didn’t take long before Jason was standing next to him, his hulking figure passing Dick as he took the bag full of food from Dick’s freezing hands.

“Wha-?”

“You don’t need to carry this stuff alone, shithead.”

Dick wasn’t sure what to think of this – had Jason really just meant the bag or something else as well? – but he was cold, and the light of the cabin promised warmth. He followed his little brother and stepped into the building that would be their home for the upcoming days.

_ He was suffocating. Someone was pressing down on him. Luthor? No, it was Bruce. He was hurting him! Dick wanted to yell… he needed to tell Bruce to stop hurting him! He was suffocating! _

_ Bruce! Stop! No…. Luthor! It was Luthor! Only… it wasn’t? _

_ What was happening? _

_ The shadows were gnawing on his bones, Dick could feel it, and Death was closing his freezing hands around his throat. Why was it always his throat? Why was he always struggling to breathe? _

_ Darkness waited for him at the bottom of the abyss. Darkness and a gun painted red in blood and misery. Dick didn’t… his hand was closing around the trigger, and a bang reverberated through his skull. _

_ Death. _

_ Death in front of him. _

_ Only this time, he had been the one who killed. _

_ He was the monster. _

_ Why couldn’t he breathe? _

The nightmare let him go with a shout.

There was darkness all around him, but it wasn’t the oppressing darkness of his head – it was the darkness of a night spent far away from civilization. Through the window of the room Dick had claimed as his soft moonlight filtered in, reflected by the sheets of snow covering the outside world.

It was early morning. His alarm clock told him that he had only gone to bed three hours ago.

The others would still be asleep.

They deserved it – their journey had been long, and they only reached the cabin late at night. And yet Dick couldn’t help himself. He craved a hug and the platonic touch of another person. He wanted warmth and love and care.

He wanted…

It was growing cold in the cabin. Dick couldn’t climb into Jason’s or Damian’s bed for a late-night cuddle session. That had been a good medicine for nightmares when he’d still been a child, back when Bruce had been this giant, warm shadow offering him comfort. But Dick wasn’t that child anymore. He was a grown-ass man.

He couldn’t seek comfort like he once had –  _ but he could be useful _ . And, hey, maybe he could make himself a cup of cocoa to warm his insides.

His steps were careful when he left his room behind, dressed in PJs and a giant fluffy cardigan Alfred had gifted him years ago. It was warm and it smelled like home. Even if Dick wasn’t really sure what his home was anymore-  **enough of that** .

He couldn’t let himself dwell.

Instead, he entered the living room area, only a few last glowing embers left of the great hulking fire Jason had built earlier. Jason had found a shed behind the cabin full of dry wood. There were still a few pieces of it piled next to the fireplace, and Dick knelt down, poking at the embers and placing the piece of wood on them.

His gaze swept through the room in search for the ignitor Damian had had earlier, when he spotted Jason. There were two couches and a giant armchair in the living room, and Dick must have been blind – or tired – because Jason was sitting there in the chair, huddled in a couple of blankets, seemingly lost in thought.

His eyes were far away. It was… Dick realized that Jason hadn’t noticed him either, even though Dick was working on the fire Jason was listlessly staring at. The embers were the only source of light next to the moon bathing the room in pale silver; Dick allowed himself a moment to study his brother.

Jason looked tired – and now that Dick was looking, he could see the premature lines carved into Jason’s face. His eyes were glazed over, his lips pressed into a thin line… he looked as if he had woken up from a nightmare of his own.

Jason had been unusually silent on the drive, but Dick had attributed that to the fight they had, the echo of Jason’s fist against his cheek still smarting…. But now? Dick wasn’t so sure. There could be something else going on with Jason instead.

As much as Dick wanted to ask Jason about it, he knew that now probably wasn’t a good moment. Not now, when warmth was leeching from the cabin with each passing second the hearth grew colder. Not now, when Dick was still trying his best to ignore his own nightmare haunting him.

Dick was cautious when he finally found the ignitor, careful to not make any sudden moves.

There was something meditative in his careful movements, each motion purposeful, each breath leveled and calm. Soon the fire was aflame again, the heat against his face a welcome surprise.

Dick could understand how one could get lost in the flames. It was tempting to just stare into the swirls of red and yellow and orange, to listen to the crackle and spit of wood, to get lost in the smell of winter and pine and homeliness.

But, no, getting lost in the flames almost equaled getting lost in his head, and that was the one thing Dick couldn’t do. If he allowed himself to think and sit, he would think about Luthor, about Bruce, about Spyral… he would think about the black hole inside his heart, slowly eating him alive.

And nobody needed that.

So, instead of staring at the flames, Dick stood up, his knees creaking as he did so. The small pop of his tendons realigning themselves seemed to reach Jason, the younger man startling. For a moment Dick wasn’t sure if Jason would attack, if Jason’s confusion would end in aggression, but that moment came to pass.

Jason simply straightened, his eyes leaving the fire behind, his gaze finding Dick:

“Why’re you up at 5am?”

Jason’s voice sounded rough, something fragile hidden behind all that gruff. Some part of Dick wanted to step closer, wanted to offer Jason a hand and a listening ear, but most of him was just too wary, just too tired, to take care of Jason as well.

“I could ask you the same thing…”

Silence.

Dick took a deep breath before he continued, his voice breaking around his attempt to sound relaxed:

“I woke up with a craving for hot chocolate. I can make you some as well, if you want?”

“Yeah… yeah…” But Jason’s eyes were already lost in the flames again.

Dick continued his track into the kitchen, his steps silent. The room was small with a woodfire stove, and a window above the sink. It was too early for the sun to even think about appearing on the sky, but the first clouds decorating the sky were slowly turning grey.

The pine trees made it impossible to see much of the mountain they were staying on, but Dick liked the glistening of the snow, and the tracks of animals taking cover in the forest more than he would ever like the image of a mountain top. 

His hands were busy preparing the stove and searching for the milk, but his eyes kept wandering to the window.

When he’d been twelve, it had snowed on Christmas. It had been the first White Christmas of Dick’s life and he had laughed in amazement – not necessarily because he found snow  _ or _ Christmas amazing, but because everyone had always told him how special it was to celebrate the 25 th with a world covered in white.

Maybe certain things really just became special because others told you they were.

Or maybe Dick just loved snow and the way it painted the world innocent. Maybe he just enjoyed seeing others happy, and the unabated joy on his classmates’ faces when the first snow danced across the sky on the day before Christmas had touched something deep inside of him.

Looking at the small snowflakes falling from the sky, at the dusting of white covering every tree, every pinecone, every inch of forest… Dick felt something. He just wasn’t sure what.

The pan of milk in front of him – and he really needed to pay more attention to his surroundings – came to a boil, and he was quick to get it off the heat. It didn’t matter that the snow was calling to him, he had to finish preparing the hot chocolate.

_ He had set out on a mission and he would finish said mission, even if it came at the cost of his own enjoyment. _

Maybe later, when Damian was awake, all three of them could go and explore the snowy landscape surrounding them together. If Dick remembered correctly there should be a place not too far away, that would be perfect for sledding.

Would Damian enjoy sledding?

Dick was ready to find out.

Mixing Alfred’s cocoa recipe with a bit of chili, Dick poured the hot liquid into two cups. They were steaming. Breathing in the deep and rich smell of the chocolate, Dick felt warmth for the first time since he woke up in cold sweat. Not even the fire had been able to touch him like this – the chocolate smelled like a memory.

Jason was still sitting on the armchair, when Dick returned to the living room. His younger brother barely reacted when Dick gave him the cup. Dick was indecisive, standing next to Jason’s chair unsure of himself, when his brother said something:

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry---?”

It wasn’t Christmas yet, and Dick had honestly not counted on any of his siblings wishing each other a good festive season. As he noted earlier, most of them didn’t celebrate anything. Their lifestyle just didn’t leave room for festivity and light – or maybe Dick was just being bitter.  _ Again _ .

This time Jason’s words seemed to be anchored in the present, his eyes finding Dick. Jason’s gaze was heavy, and Dick had to swallow down the impulse to say something dumb just to defuse the tension.

He was still surprised when Jason spoke:

“We celebrated Christmas on the 24 th , my mom and I. We had a shitty plastic Christmas tree that I found in an alley, and we ate Turkey sandwiches from the Deli for dinner. And then, late at night, when it was dark and cold outside, we went to midnight mass. And we lit a light in all this darkness, and we dared to hope in this shithole called Gotham City.”

Dick’s heart fluttered. Jason’s voice was soft and light and so, so forlorn… they had never shared something like this with each other before, and Dick honestly had no idea what he had done to earn it now. Or why his mouth was always quicker than his brain:

“I didn’t know you were practicing…”

“We weren’t. Not really, at least. But on Christmas day, we went to midnight mass and payed a dollar to be allowed to light one of those stupid candles. We never had money, but mom always made sure we’d have enough for the turkey sandwiches and the candle during church service.”

“Why… why are you telling me this now?”

Silence fell over the room, the spitting fire the only sound for a long moment. Jason took a sip from the hot chocolate before he continued, his tone silent and contemplative:

“Because… y’know, Christmas is this giant corporate shitfest. But on a small scale, it’s about hope. It’s about reconciliation. It’s about not being an asshole for five consecutive minutes.”

“Oh…”

“I haven’t been to mass since my mom died. I don’t think I want to. But I always think of her on Christmas day. And…  _ forget it _ .”

Jason had almost said something else; Dick was sure of it. But where Jason’s eyes had been open and vulnerable only moments ago, they were now closed off once again.

Dick was lost.

He was standing next to his brother, clutching his own cup of slowly cooling cocoa, unable to say the words he needed to say. What was the next step? What would Dick Grayson usually do?

He no longer knew.

So, instead of offering another branch of companionship to Jason, Dick turned around. His feet carried him to the door, and it didn’t take long for him to change into his winter boots, pulling the giant winter jacket tight around his shoulders.

The world was silent when Dick stepped out of the house.

Silent and cold and beautiful.

He didn’t go far, the Toyota in front of the house never leaving his view. Each step made a noise, and with each crunch of compressed snow Dick stopped, breathed, and listened. Only one or two bird species were left in these parts of the mountains during the winter, but Dick could still hear their faint song. They were calling out their love for the world, even now, when the world was doing its best to kill them.

The sun would rise soon, and with it the snow around him would start to glow.

The hot chocolate was almost cold when Dick finally drank it, the rich flavors bleeding down his tongue. Everything felt so much more immediate, encased in all this ice. Every breath hurt, the cold air burning his insides, and the world sounded crisp and clear. Untouched. Unblemished.

Dick could get used to this. Only he wasn’t allowed to. Only this was not his place – this was a pit stop on an adventure that never seemed to stop.

The sun was already illuminating the heavy clouds from behind by the time Dick returned inside. His fingers were cold, slowly turning blue, and the rest of the hot chocolate remained forgotten at the bottom of the cup.

Maybe this had been a mistake all along.

The inside of the house was almost painfully hot when Dick returned, his fingers and cheeks stinging from the onslaught of hot air. When he finished clumsily pulling his shoes off his feet, it was Damian who greeted him.

The twelve-year-old boy had a petulant look on his face, but the displeased image Damian tried to create failed due to the flour stains on the boy’s nose and the fact that he was still clad in his Batman PJs. Damian looked adorable, even with his crossed arms and the frown decorating his face.

“Hey, little D. I hope you slept well?”

“My rest was adequate. The same can obviously not be said for you and Todd, which is why I took it upon myself to prepare breakfast. You would do good to appreciate it.”

“Of course I appreciate it! Who do you think I am?”

“A heathen.”

Dick knew Damian was smiling when he turned away, and once again relief flooded his veins. Damian was alive.  _ His boy was alive _ .

The closer Dick got to the kitchen, the more evident it became that Damian really had prepared breakfast for them. The smell of boiling chai on the stove penetrated everything, heavy notes of cinnamon and clove in the air. The small kitchen table was covered in even smaller plates, different jams and spreads decorating the worn wood.

Apparently, Damian had even decided to cook some rice porridge, the dish bubbling away next to the chai.

It was… Dick wasn't sure the last time he'd eaten with his family. At least eight months… probably longer. Dick wasn’t sure if he ever ate together with Bruce and what was left of his brothers after Damian died.

Tears threatened to run down his cheeks, but Dick pushed the urge down. Instead, he pulled Damian away from the stove and into a hug. His boy smelled like the dishes he had just prepared, but underneath the warm milk and the spices was a smell that was solely Damian.  _ His kid _ .

Dick wasn’t sure if he could ever heal from the pain that was losing Damian.

He wasn’t sure if he would ever stop looking at Damian as if he was a miracle.

“Hey! Gray- Richard! Let me go! The chai is boiling!”

In contrast to his words, Damian wasn’t struggling. Quite the opposite actually: Damian had basically melted into Dick’s hug, thin arms returning the tight hold Dick had on the smaller body. But Dick let go, nonetheless. He didn’t want to press his luck.

“So, breakfast is ready then? Should I get Jason?”

“You may bring Todd to the table. The porridge tastes better warm.”

Jason looked up the moment Dick entered the living room, his eyes a lot more focused than they had been hours before. Whatever had been haunting his younger brother was once again locked and sealed away somewhere Dick couldn’t reach. He had never owned the key to Jason’s secrets and now, with what had happened between them, Dick feared he never would.

“Breakfast is ready. Damian says we can start eating.”

“Yeah… I heard you. The kitchen is literally fifteen feet away and you’re not quiet.”

“So… you’re coming?”

“I’m coming.”

Jason unfolded from his position on the armchair, until his back popped. He was still in the clothes he had arrived in and… had Jason slept at all? Dick didn’t know, but he was sure his question wouldn’t be welcome.

So, instead, he stepped out of the way, and simply watched as Jason passed him by, the shadows underneath his eyes frightening. They were a mess. All of them.

Once they were all seated around the table, pale light filtering in through the window over the sink, Dick addressed Damian:

“Thank you for cooking, Dami. That was very nice. I didn’t know you liked to cook?”

“Well, there are a hell of a lot of things you don’t know, Dickiebird.”

He didn’t flinch – but it was a close thing.

Jason was right, of course. There were a lot of things Dick didn’t know. He hadn’t known Damian was back after all, and he wasn’t sure why Jason was so close to Tim suddenly. He didn’t know why Damian could cook, or what Jason’s favorite book was anymore. He didn’t know whether or not Tim had gotten his friends back or why Bruce had chosen his own happiness over them.

There was so much Dick didn’t know – but he so desperately craved that knowledge. That closeness.

But Dick… he couldn’t cave, he couldn’t break. Not now, not when Damian went to such lengths to prepare them such a wonderful meal:

“That’s why I’m asking, Jay. So, Damian, cooking?”

“Hn… I spent some time with the Teen Titans after my return. It came to my attention that none of us could cook, which is unacceptable, so I took it upon myself to learn how to prepare a satisfactory meal. It is unbecoming of a respected hero to be helpless in the kitchen.”

“Well, cheers to that.” Jason raised his cup of steaming chai, motioning towards Damian and Dick before he took a sip.

Dick reciprocated, before he answered Damian:

“It's definitely a good skill to have. And I’m very grateful for the food – nothing better to prepare you for a day in the snow than a stomach full of warm and delicious porridge.”

“A day in the snow?”

“Yeah, there should be a slope perfect for sledding not too far from here. I thought we could go on a hike, check it out.”

For five painstaking seconds silence reigned over the table. Dick could feel his heartbeat accelerate, could feel his breath come in short bursts… what if they said no? What if his brothers didn’t want to spend time with him? What if Dick… what if he was alone? Again?

But before Dick could break, before everything became too much, Damian answered, Jason nodding along as he drank:

“Sure, Richard. A hike sounds like a good exercise. Father’s training in different environmental settings was rather lacking, so some time spent familiarizing myself with snowy terrain should be helpful.”

_ Sure. That sounded like fun _ .

But at least they were doing it together. At least Dick wouldn’t be alone. He was caught in a pendulum, his own existence caging him in, tearing him down, destroying him at the seams of who he was… and at the same time Dick couldn’t bear the thought of being alone, the utter despair of calling for Bruce only to get silence as an answer still haunting him.

“Yeah, getting to know the terrain sounds good.”

His legs burned from the pull of the snow against them as Dick fought his way up the mountain. Each step was a battle, sweat running down his back, his breath coming in short bursts.

It was exercise, alright.

Jason was only faring a little better, probably because of his extra three inches and the forty pounds he had on Dick. With Jason’s bulk the snow had no chance, basically parting wherever Jason decided to conquer it. Damian on the other hand… the boy was at least knee-deep in snow at any given point.

Dick could hear his frustrated gasps and sighs, but not a single word of complaint left Damian’s mouth.

The boy was far too stubborn for it. Dick wanted to sit him down and tell him that it was okay to enjoy things. That Damian could just have fun for once… but in the time Dick had been gone, Damian seemingly returned to at least some of his previous bad habits.

Punishing himself via training for misgivings only he could see, was one of these behaviors Dick had tried his best to steer the boy away from… Apparently, this was just another point in which Dick had failed.

At the next pine tree looming in front of him, Dick stopped. He allowed himself to take a deep breath, the wintery smell of forest, ice, and dirt penetrating every gasp of air. Jason never stopped, continuing in his single-minded mission to finish this hike, while Dick decided to wait.

He didn’t have to wait for long, Damian appearing by his side.

His face was red from all the exercise, and Dick forced down the smile pulling at his cheeks. Damian looked adorable. But for all Dick had missed the kid, he knew now was not the time for some senseless teasing.

There never seemed to be time for that anymore.

“How’re you holding up, Baby Bat?”

“Fine.”

Of course, never let anyone see your weakness – not even your brother.

“First time training in the snow?”

Dick didn’t let Damian’s short answer stop him. He had a connection with this kid that had taken years to establish – and something told Dick that this connection was still there, that it was still strong. That things might be different now, but the two of them were still Damian and Dick.  _ Batman and Robin _ .

“Pah, no. This is nothing. Nanda Parbat had very hard and cold winters. Mother and Grandfather always made sure everyone in the compound had adequate snow training. This… I just didn’t uphold my training regiment in that regard. It seemed redundant in Gotham City – snow never stays for more than a day.”

Dick nodded along with Damian’s explanation, the both of them continuing their walk. The further up the mountain they got, the less trees were there to protect them from the snow raining down on them. Dick watched as a single snowflake danced through the treetops and landed on Damian’s eyelashes. The boy began to blink furiously, his nose scrunched up in displeasure.

This time Dick didn’t keep himself from smiling. Damian looks so young like this… so innocent and untouched by trauma. He looked like a normal child.

“So… did you and the other kids ever play when you had snow training?”

“Well, playing was frowned upon, of course” – Damian’s voice was slow and calculated – “But Mara and some of the others… sometimes, especially during the various worldly holidays that happened during the winter months… many of the adults were busy… so sometimes we engaged in strategic play fighting with snow as a weapon”

“Snowball fights?”

A beat of silence, a bird singing somewhere in the distance… and then, a slow smile on Damian’s face:

“Snowball fights.”

It wasn’t hard to guess what exactly Damian was thinking about – Dick was thinking the same after all. In the distance Dick could see Jason stomp through the snow, and in a moment of unspoken understanding both he and Damian came to the same conclusion.

They were silent as they accumulated a small mountain of snowballs. There was warmth filling Dick’s stomach and it had little to do with the heavy winter coat he was wearing. No, this warm feeling could solely be attributed to the mischief cursing through Dick’s veins.

Damian had a look of deep concentration on his face, his tongue peaking out of his mouth, as he constructed the perfect throwing weapon. Dick mentally congratulated himself: they were playing, even if Jason didn’t know it yet.

Dick followed Jason’s movements through the snow, and he tipped Damian on the shoulder the exact moment their brother turned around – probably wondering what took them so long.

The first snowball hit Jason square in the face.

A breathless gasp of laughter escaped Dick. Snow was slowly dripping down Jason’s face.  _ This could have been a grave mistake, this could ruin their little holiday completely, this could end in a fight and in violence _ … But Dick didn’t let the bad thoughts get to him, he had enough of them when he was trying to sleep. Instead, he anxiously bit his lip and… Jason was shaking his head, his voice a mixture of Jason as Dick had known him when he’d been a child, and the Red Hood:

“That’s a declaration of war, shitheads, I hope you know that. The Red Hood will make your lives miserable.”

The first snowball Jason threw hit Dick’s chest. Another laugh escaped him…  _ they were playing _ . Dick couldn’t react fast enough, the world vanishing in a flurry of laughter, ice, and chaos.

“Batman and Robin will tear you apart! Prepare to perish, Todd!”

And Dick let the joy swallow him, watching as his kid laughed and played and existed. He watched as his little brother wrestled Damian onto the ground, a rare honest smile splitting his face apart. He watched and he didn’t fight when they pulled him into this mix of limps struggling for dominance on the forest floor – he followed them.

They were his family after all. They were his home.

_ A hand pressing down on his chest, another one forcing something inside his mouth. Why couldn’t he breathe? _

_ Where did the heat come from? Was he burning? _

_ Fire surrounded him. The flesh on his hands was melting away and… it was Damian he was watching. It was Damian, who was dying. It was Damian, who was burning. Dick screaming his name. Yelled and cried and tore this throat apart… but no sound escaped him. _

_ Why couldn’t he breathe? _

_ Why was… air escaped him in bubbles, his dignity bleeding away. Every step he took was a step someone else ordered him to take. Why couldn’t he control himself? Why… his arms belonged to Bruce, always pulling him apart. His legs belonged to Spyral, running him ragged. His heart belonged to Damian, rotting away next to a corpse… and his head? His brain? That belonged to Luthor. _

_ Why couldn’t he breathe? _

_ There was a fire! There was-! _

Dick couldn’t scream for help, but he could gasp for air, when the nightmare finally let him go.

He was laying on one of the couches in the living room, the fire crackling and sizzling in front of him. That had to be the fire threatening to eat him alive in his dream… he didn’t want to think of the other images haunting his subconscious.

Dick couldn’t have been asleep for long, since the fire was still going strong, the wood not burned through yet. They had sat in front of the fireplace for most of the evening, Jason and Damian reading after a small dinner, while Dick listened to a podcast and knitted. There hadn’t been any words spoken between them, but the stifling dread had finally dispersed – at least for a bit – after they returned from their snowball fight.

It had felt good, and Dick wasn’t surprised to realize he had fallen asleep surrounded by those he trusted.

As a child he had always slept best when it was Bruce he could cuddle with, or his mom and dad who offered their companionship at night. As a grown up… Dick would lie if he said he didn’t miss the platonic touches of his youth, but he no longer needed them.

Until now… until the Crime Syndicate, Luthor, Bruce, and Spyral took his agency and his stability away, and sleep became something elusive once more. Only that it had started before this whole mess, hadn’t it? It had started when Damian died.

It had started with another goodbye.

Before his thoughts could get too dark, Dick glanced at his watch. 1:30am. He hadn’t even been asleep for two hours. With a sigh Dick dropped his head back on the couch cushion, his eyes finding the dancing flames in front of him.

Should he try and go back to sleep?

No, his heart was filled with anxiety and fear, and only Dick’s honed mental control made sure that he didn’t get lost in a panic attack. If Dick were to stop forcefully controlling his breathing and his thoughts, he would be a sobbing ball of dread within minutes. He couldn’t let that happen.

So, he didn’t.

Pulling the blanket – either Damian or Jason must have given it to him after he fell asleep – around his shoulders, Dick sat up. He could continue listening to the art podcast he had spent his evening with, or he could go on another hike through the dark forest… both ideas felt equally alluring at 1:30am in the morning.

He looked at the fire once more, at the wood slowly turning into ashes, at the red and orange glow illuminating the room, and not for the first time he wondered, if coming back from the dead felt the same for everyone. If Damian and Jason had felt as lost as he currently did… but that was bullshit, wasn’t it?

Their deaths had been so much more brutal… Dick had only stopped to exist for a few minutes – a few months – and both Damian and Jason had died at the hands of evil people, wanting to hurt them. It wasn’t the same – and the fire wouldn’t hold any answers either way.

“Happy late eight day of Chanukah, Bruce. I hope you and Alfred lit the candles correctly this year… I wasn’t there to make sure you did, and now I am even further away…”

Dick wasn’t sure why he was talking to Bruce, or why he remembered their small little tradition now. They had never celebrated a religious holiday in the winter, but they hadn’t been completely secular either. There had always been the tree Dick loved, and there had been the lights and the cookies and the hot chocolate. But each year Bruce also lit the Menorah for each day of Chanukah, and they made latkes when Alfred wasn’t too busy.

Dick had known some of the prayers said each evening when you lit the candles, since Jake, Praya, and Jaimee in the circus had been Jewish and Dick had liked to spend Chanukah in their trailer. Bruce had smiled – and cried – when 9-year-old Dick had almost said them on autopilot during their first winter together.

After that, it had become another tradition of theirs.

They had a tree, and Alfred’s Anglican Church. They had the Menorah belonging to Bruce’s mom, and latkes and gingerbread cookies. They even had Yule, since Dick liked to light a fire in the darkest night of the year, just to make sure that bad spirits stayed away.

And now…

Now they had a drafty cabin in some mountains. They had no tree, since Dick had been preoccupied with warming himself up after their snowball fight, and they had no special traditions. Damian didn’t like gingerbread, Jason rarely spoke, there were no lights, no glitter, no joy… there were only the three of them, and they were doing their best.

In moments like these, alone in front of a dying fire, Dick only feared their best wouldn’t be enough.

Morning came too soon.

Dick was nursing his third cup of coffee by the time Damian stumbled into the kitchen, strands of hair pointing in every direction.

The sun had only just begun to rise, when the boy appeared in the door leading to the living room. It was unusual for Damian to be awake this early – while the boy was bad at sleeping in, he had come to enjoy mornings that started after 9am in his free time. Or at least that’s what had Dick thought.

But now Damian was standing in front of him, sleep still evident in his eyes.

“Good morning, Dames. Oh, and Merry Christmas.”

“-tt-. We are not celebrating that inane holiday, Richard.”

“Good Morning to myself then…”

Dick let the sarcasm bleed into his voice, raising an eyebrow when he heard Damian’s snotty answer. The boy had grown up a lot in the years Dick had known him, and yet sometimes he was simply still a brat.  _ Dick loved it _ . Maybe that was the real testament regarding his affections for the boy: even the most annoying characteristic Damian portrayed was lovely in Dick’s eyes.

“Good Morning, Richard. Happy now?”

“Yeah, actually, I am… but what put  _ you _ in such a foul mood today?”

Damian couldn’t hold eye contact with Dick when he shrugged, his shoulders so small in the oversized pajama top.

Worry began to stew in Dick’s stomach. The anxious feeling hadn’t left him the entire night and looking at Damian now didn’t make it any better. He knelt down in front of the boy, when the silence stretched on for too long.

Should he hug him? Should he ask a few more questions first? Should he take the mumbled “nothing” at face value and move on?

Dick had never been very good at letting things go, that was half the reason Dick had clashed so much with Bruce over the years. But it was also the reason why Dick had managed to connect to Damian when the boy had first come to live with them.

“Damian, could you please look at me? What’s going on?”

Another beat of silence, and then Damian glanced up. Ice encased Dick’s heart when he saw the unshed tears glistening in the corners of Damian’s eyes. His boy was devastated, and Dick hadn’t even known. At least partially because Damian hadn’t wanted him to know – the boy was frighteningly good at keeping his emotions under lock and key.

“Damian? What’s the matter?”

“You weren’t in your bed.” Damian’s voice was small when he finally spoke. Damian never sounded small. Normally Damian’s voice was a testament to the legacy he helped carry. It was a testament to all the great things Damian had achieved… now, he just sounded lost.

“Yeah, sorry, I woke up on the couch and couldn’t go back to sleep. I was too awake.”

It was only a partial lie – but not the whole truth either. Not that Dick understood why his empty bed had upset Damian this much.

There was anger dancing through the air, when Damian spoke next.

“You don’t get it.”

_ This  _ Dick could deal with.  _ This _ was normal territory.

“I don’t. So, please explain it to me. I’m here to listen, Dames, I promise.”

“But you aren’t.”

Dick couldn’t help himself. A shocked “what?” escaped him. He had done his best to always be there for Damian. He had cuddled with him and hugged him… and he gave him space whenever the boy needed it… Dick had almost lost himself when Damian died! Dick had almost-

_ Oh. _

“You aren’t there. Or you weren’t. I woke up, and you were still dead in my dream, Richard. You were still gone, and I went to check on you, but your bed was empty, the sheets undisturbed. You were gone again. I was… I was so afraid I would wake up and you wouldn’t be here. What if I blinked and you were dead once more? What if you didn’t come back?”

Damian looked at him, as if Dick held all the answers, but Dick knew he had none. All he had was a crushing sensation of loss slowly suffocating him, and the knowledge that he was loved, and lost, and grieved.

“I’m here, Damian. I promise you; I  _ am _ here.”

Dick didn’t wait for Damian to answer, instead he pulled the boy against his chest. Damian was warm and alive and oh, so small. Dick hugged him tighter. And Damian didn’t fight him – no, Damian returned the gesture, his bony arms almost crushing Dick.

They stayed like this for a long moment, until Damian whispered: “But you will go again. I heard you… I heard you talk to Drake and Todd… you have to go away again, once we return from this idiotic trip. You will leave me again…”

Dick pulled Damian closer, simply breathing for a moment. His heart was breaking. Here he was, lost in his own head, his own trauma, and meanwhile Damian had not only died and come back… no, Damian had lost his father and his dad as well.

“I didn’t leave you on purpose… and if I could stay, I would. I never wanted any of this… I never wanted to leave. You have to believe me, okay… I wanted… I…”

Had Dick ever even told Damian how much he loved him?

“When you- When you died, it destroyed me, Damian. I wasn’t… I wasn’t the same man, I’d been before. It… I never wanted to leave… because I love you, Damian. I love you and if… if I had known you were coming back, I would have been the first person to hug you, you can bet on it. Okay? I love you, kid. I love you so damn much my heart still seizes every time I see you. Okay?”

Another beat of silence, but Dick was growing used to them. A quiet sniffle was audible against his neck, but Damian spoke before Dick could offer another piece of his soul:

“That sounds unhealthy…”

“It probably is… but it’s also the truth. I think I never understood Bruce as well as I did after I had to bury you. I could finally understand what happened to him after Jason died… and it was hard, because I never wanted to become like him, but in that moment I understood why he reacted the way he did – I almost did the same.”

This was as close as Dick would ever get to acknowledging the bond between him and Damian. They both knew it ran deeper than just brotherly love, and they both knew, the other would react badly to one of them putting it into words.

Dick could compare losing Damian to Bruce losing Jason, but their fragile moment would break should he dare to call Damian his son.

That was the way of the world. Dick’s world and Damian’s as well.

Their embrace continued for a few moments, until Damian untangled himself, something contemplative in his gaze. He was clearly thinking, and Dick decided to give him room. Damian – not unlike Bruce – needed space to evaluate his emotions; caging him in would only hurt them both.

But how could Dick give Damian an out? How could they step away from this without making it worse?

It was Damian who offered a solution:

“Shall we prepare breakfast then? I think I just heard Todd enter the bathroom.”

There was no hint of the vulnerable child left in Damian’s face. Instead it was Damian Wayne looking at Dick. Damian Wayne, with red-rimmed eyes full of determination. Damian Wayne, with his oversized Batman PJs and his anger as an armor.

Dick would die for this kid any day of the week.

“Sure. Do you think we have everything here to make latkes?”

Jason entered the kitchen an hour later, and his first words directly addressed to Dick:

“Chanukah’s been over for a week now…”

“And everyday is a day you can enjoy good food.” Dick grinned back. Maybe if he smiled enough the heavy feeling would go away. Maybe if he allowed the illusion of happiness to prevail, the joy would seep into his bones and heart as well.

He was anxious. First his dream and the lack of sleep, and then Damian with a nightmare of his own, and  _ then _ … Dick who told Damian for the first time what it had been like to lose him. An idiotic choice really – the kid didn’t need that burden. Damian didn’t need Dick’s pain as well, he had enough of his own.

Too many thoughts were circling through Dick’s head, and if felt as if he was one step away from exploding.

“Well, that’s true. Move, your latkes are always  _ way _ too big…”

Jason was almost gentle when he pushed Dick to the side, taking the bowl with the potato mixture out of his hands. Jason looked softer today, less on edge and more like himself.

He reminded Dick of the Jason from before. The Jason who went skiing with Dick once, the two of them staying at this very cabin for a short holiday trip without Bruce. Everything the two of them did back then, had been without Bruce, Dick unable to even look the man in the face.

It wasn’t so different now.

What would have happened had Jason never died? Would skiing be their thing? Would they hate each other? Or would they love each other? Would they be better brothers or worse?

“You’re staring.”

“Oh… sorry, I was just… I just remembered that this is the same cabin we stayed at back then.”

Now it was Jason, who was looking at him, something curious in his gaze: “Back then?”

Embarrassment crept up on Dick.

“Yeah, when… when you were fifteen and I was twenty. When we went skiing? That was here.”

“ _ Huh _ …”

Jason went back to forming latkes, but Dick didn’t miss the contemplative look on his face. Before he could ask any follow up questions though, Damian returned from his small hike around the cabin. The boy had declared his need for “an inferior decorative tree” shortly after Dick started shredding the potatoes, and now it seemed as if their youngest brother had returned to their humble abode.

Both Jason and Dick glanced towards the door when it creaked open. And then they continued to stare.

Damian was a sight to behold, snow covering him from top to bottom. Not even his face was free from pieces of ice, slowly dripping down his cheeks. The most noteworthy thing, however, was not the snow, or the tree Damian was slowly pulling into the cabin… no, the thing that made them stare was the wide grin decorating Damian’s face. 

The boy looked delighted.

Dick couldn’t recall if he had ever seen Damian this happy.

“Hello, you heathens! I have found the most perfect tree that has ever decorated a Wayne property!”

“You sure did.”

Dick was smiling as well, and it felt a bit more real than it had minutes earlier. Jason seemingly relaxed as well, tension bleeding out of his broad shoulders. Dick hadn’t even noticed when Jason tensed up, but he was glad to see the excess energy go.

The one thing they really couldn’t use right now, was even more strain on their fragile peace.

Dick left Jason at the stove, to help Damian with the tree before the entire heat seeped from their cabin. That didn’t mean he couldn’t hear Jason, however, when he said:

“Huh, now the plan for today is set, too: decorating this monster of a tree.”

Jason was right – they would have to decorate the tree. They would have to decorate the tree even though they had no decorations and only a cabin in the woods to find stuff to put on it. It would be chaos.  _ Mayhem _ . But maybe it could also be fun – maybe the anxiety would ease should Dick focus on this.

He could almost believe it, he just needed to ignore the glances both Jason and Damian send in his direction.

“And it’s gonna be the prettiest tree we’ve ever had,” promised Dick.

Damian’s smile dimmed a little.

Damian was laying on the cabin floor close to the fire, drawing pictures of his animals to cut out and hang on the tree. Jason was sitting at the kitchen table creating straw stars out of an old, forgotten package of plastic straws they had found in a cupboard, and Dick was doing his best to ensure that the tree stayed upright.

Damian had been right when he declared the tree the prettiest tree a Wayne property had ever seen. It was an absolutely beautiful pine tree, the different branches evenly spaced and full. Dick was happy to handle the tree. For one, he didn’t think he could handle sitting still right now, the nervous energy coursing through his body making him fidget, and… he liked the smell of freshly cut wood.

Pine needles would always remind him of Christmas at the Manor, just as the smell of heavy hot chocolate would always remind him of the weeks leading up to New Years Eve. It was a smell promising winter and snow and warmth.

He liked it.

The sizzling fire created an atmospheric background soundtrack, together with the even scratch of Damian’s pen against the paper, and the low cursing coming from Jason. It felt idyllic.

Dick wanted to enjoy it so desperately, and yet it never felt right.

Maybe it wasn’t just his nightmare that had wrong-footed him. Maybe it was his talk with Damian as well. In hindsight it felt as if Dick had made a thousand mistakes during their short conversation, and the icky feeling of making a mistake wouldn’t leave him alone.

God, he hated it.

He hated not being in full control of his emotions. The last months had cost him greatly and he was only hanging on by the barest thread. He hated the fact that their time together was running out. Their  _ family bliss _ had a deadline, and Dick could already see it approaching. He only had this short holiday to set everything straight. He only had the upcoming days… should he fail… Dick had no idea when he would get another chance to talk to his brothers. He had no idea if he would get another chance at all.

(he desperately hoped so – he had promised Damian that he would come back after all)

Maybe it was his duty as the oldest to forcefully clear the air? Maybe he should just start, make it uncomfortable for all of them, and force them to see him for what he was: a pushover?

He looked at them.

Jason was only twenty-one, and Dick could see the weight of the world weighting on his shoulders. Jason had suffered so much… and yet it never seemed to stop. Damian as well. He was only twelve, and Dick would gladly hide him away, just so the world could finally stop hurting this child.

He wanted to protect them---- but in the past few months Dick had only managed to bring them pain.

It was past lunch time, the world – and their car – covered in a heavy, white blanket, the snow still falling thickly from the sky, when Dick looked at Jason, the tree still firmly in his grasp, and said:

“I’m sorry for lying about being dead.”

The following silence was jarring. Damian had stopped his pen almost immediately, and even the fire seemed to be holding its breath. And then Jason spoke:

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t say sorry for that shit. If you say sorry… I’m going to have to apologize too and I don’t want to.”

Dick’s cheek stung in sympathy. He remembered that fist. He remembered that blow. How could he not? It had bruised more than just his ego after all.

“What does that have to do with anything? I just said, I was sorry for staying dead. Or faking it. Or whatever. That has nothing to do with you-  _ forget it _ .”

There was anger bubbling inside of him, and Dick didn’t like it. He was sick of being angry. He was sick of being declared the One With The Temper. Maybe Dick didn’t have a temper… maybe Dick simply had emotions.

There was this damned silence again, haunting all his interactions with his siblings.

Hadn’t they been a family once? Maybe Dick was simply misremembering things.

“Don’t do that Dick.”

The thing was… Jason didn’t sound angry. He sounded tired, exhausted, maybe even regretful. He sounded far older than his age.

The problem was, Dick was tired as well. He had been tired for years now.

“I would very much appreciate it if you could just tell me what you want from me, Jason.”

It only sucked that Damian was caught in the crossfire. Dick tried to signal the boy that he could go, but Damian just shook his head. His eyes had a dangerous gleam, but that might just have been the reflection of the fire.

Dick was forced to look away from Damian, however, when Jason pushed away from the table, the scratching sound of wood against wood ugly.

His brother was standing in the doorway connecting the kitchen and the living room, his bulk filling out the entire frame. He looked intimidating, but Dick had long ago stopped being afraid of large men. It didn’t matter how big someone was, often enough the people who hurt you, could do so without using their strength. Most of the time they had other kinds of power. Other weapons that hurt way worse.

“I want you to stop this fucking charade. This- this… posturing. You say you’re sorry… but for what? For lying to us? For disappearing? For leaving? Or are you sorry for following Bruce’s order when the guy behaved like an ass?”

What?

“What?”

Jason was uncomfortable when Dick turned around to really look at him. His broad shoulders hid the anxiety vibrating through them, and his height made it hard to realize he was cowering… But Dick knew Jason. He knew his brother. Jason was… unsure of himself, and Dick had no idea why. He only knew that Jason’s word had been meant to cut – and that they did.

“Argh! You  _ are _ infuriating!” – Jason combed through his hair, his voice silent but angry – “Do you- You have no self-preservation so to speak of! Bruce fucked you over after the-  **After** ! And all you do is stand there and take it… okay, yes, I feel shitty for hitting you! There! I feel shitty for hitting you, because I was led to believe that you lied to me about  _ that _ …”

Jason wasn’t making any sense. Dick could feel the panic threatening to swallow him, could feel the fear begin to crawl up his spine. What was going on? What was Jason talking about?

His gaze jumped from Jason to the tree to Damian and back, but neither of these things offered an answer to Dick’s problem. Sweat ran down the back of his shirt, his throat closing up… Dick had lost control of the situation – or did he ever even have it at all?

Wasn’t he just a passenger along for the ride in this thing called his life?

“What are you talking about?”

Dick’s voice was barely a whisper, and he wanted to hide away after he heard how pitiful he sounded. He sounded weak – Dick was so sick of feeling weak.

“What Todd meant… After your return, Drake and I found cowl footage father had hidden in the Batcomputer. It depicted your return from the… from the Crime Syndicate. I- I wanted to breach the subject with you, but there never seemed to be a moment of peace that allowed for us to properly discuss our findings…”

Damian appeared so adult when he spoke, but looking at him, all Dick could see was a child, forced by his circumstances to grow up. Maybe there were worlds out there in which Damian had been allowed to remain a child… maybe there were worlds out there in which Dick didn’t make it worse.

He played Damian’s words over and over in his head, until-

“So, what? You orchestrated this get together just to corner me? Wow! Thanks! Now I feel really appreciated.”

Dick almost choked on the last word, a fierce pain piercing his heart at the thought of his brothers only doing this… why? To humiliate him? To punish him even further? To take even more of his agency away?

Dick had just… he just needed his family. Was that too much to ask for?

“No! Richard! No! Not at all… we- I just- I missed you and I was concerned.”

Dick was tempted to just throw the tree on the floor and go for a hike, leaving his brothers alone with the consequences of their actions, but the desperate look in Damian’s eyes wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t leave – and he wouldn’t allow himself to cry.

“For fuck’s sake… We messed up, Dickiebird. We messed up when you came back, and we’ve messed up ever since. Just- It would be so much easier if I wasn’t mad at you. But I am. And I’m fucking furious with Bruce- But… Dick, why didn’t you tell us? Not when you died, I understand what happened back then… but why didn’t you defend yourself even once since then?”

“You were finally getting along…”

It was the truth and it hurt to say it. It hurt so much; Dick was afraid he would die again from the pain lacing through his chest.

“What?” This time it was Jason, who asked the damned question.

“You were finally getting along. I came back and I was so lonely… and I saw that all of you moved on. That you and Tim are besties now, and that Damian has a team and friends. Bruce is happy for the first time in his life… and I am- I was so jealous. And that is a shitty thing to feel – I should be happy that you could move on. I should be happy to know that one day all of you will survive in a world in which I no longer exist… but in that moment, it only hurt. Because I- I was alone. Am alone.”

Silence was their constant companion, and it flooded the room once more, when Dick finally stopped his senseless babble. Words he never meant to say were flowing from his lips, and while the pressure on his chest eased up, the feeling of dread never went away.

He had said too much. He had so much left to say.

“You’re an idiot…”

Dick hadn’t even noticed that Jason had come closer, until suddenly two strong arms engulfed him in a hug. Dick wasn’t sure if he could remember another instance like this, if he and Jason had ever really hugged each other, but he let himself fall into the embrace. Jason caught him.

“You’re an idiot. We didn’t cope. We didn’t move on. We scrambled by and tried to collect the pieces. I’m sorry for not giving you a chance to explain – I’m sorry you didn’t get a choice after you came back from the dead.”

“I didn’t-“

“Dead is dead. If there is one thing on earth that doesn’t discriminate, that’s death – trust me.”

Jason pulled back, and Dick missed the warmth of another body before his brother had even fully retreated. What was he supposed to do now? Worse – what was he supposed to think? Dick wished for an easy answer to a situation where he knew there would be none.

So many emotions were battling against each other in his chest. There was the relief knowing that Jason and Tim didn’t hate him, and then there was the anger that they had never said anything at all. There was the loneliness that never really left him, and the craving for human touch. There was the sorrow over his own death, and his fear of being used by others… and in the midst of it all there was his love.

Dick felt like a broken man, and he wasn’t even sure what it was that had finally succeeded in tearing him down. Was it truly his death by Luthor`s hand? Or was it the fact that Spyral could control his body should they want to? Was it Damian’s still and dead body that would never stop haunting him or the look of distrust in Bruce’s eyes when he sent him away? Maybe in the end it was the concern Jason showed, the worry written in Damian’s eyes, that finally broke him…

“And what now?”

He sounded rough. He sounded like every single emotion currently crushing his heart.

It was Jason who answered. “I don’t know… I  _ really _ , really don’t know.”

“Why did you come on this trip, Jay?”

Dick had wondered why Jason was here at all, only two days earlier, and he still wasn’t sure. Jason had just said that he was mad… and yet he had readily agreed to spend time together far away from civilization.

“I- I spend so much time being angry, Dick… I thought I’d do something else for once. It’s Christmas, right? My mom always said that first steps were easiest on Christmas day.”

Both his brothers were looking at him, and Dick wondered what a sight he must be. Unshed tears glistening in his eyes, hair and clothes in disarray, a pine tree still clutched in his hands.

Damian had sat up at some point during their talk/fight/confession. Dick couldn’t be mad at Damian, even if some part of his heart smarted. Dick could only marvel… at least with Damian someone had given Dick a second chance. He wouldn’t throw it away.

“Damian?”

“I was worried for you, Richard. And I can see now, why I might have hurt your feelings, so please accept my apology. I just… I was afraid you would leave us again, and that- that you would hate us, and never come back.”

Sometimes Damian looked too much like an adult – in this moment Dick could only see the child he was. It was easy to drop the tree and let it fall to the ground. It was easy to crouch down and press Damian against his chest.

“I love you, kiddo. I love all of you. I’m just… I think I need some space, okay? I’m just… I’ll be back. Finish up in here… I’m just- this is a bit much. But I love you, okay?”

The last bit, Dick said while looking at Jason. Yeah, their relationship wasn’t always the best, yeah, they fought more often than not, yeah, there was so much unsaid pain between the two of them… but that didn’t mean that Dick didn’t love him.

_ Just look at Bruce _ – Dick was almost too comfortable with loving people who hurt him. And so was Jason. Damian… the whole lot of them.

Dick untangled himself from Damian and minutes later silence greeted him.

The outside world was muffled, snow heavy in the air… Dick breathed in the icy air and for the first time in forever – he allowed himself to breathe out.

They didn’t continue their talk when Dick returned hours later, his fingers frozen blue. Instead, Jason pressed a cup of mulled wine into his hands and sent him a cautious smile. Dick smiled back – it didn’t even feel like a lie.

They would have to talk more in the future. All of them, and about more than just the past eight months. Their family had ignored its issues for too long, and with Bruce no longer in charge, it was high time they cleared out some of the dusty drawers hiding family secrets away.

But these conversations were for days where breathing didn’t feel like a gift. They were for days Dick felt strong enough to carry guilt, and Jason felt well enough to forgive. They were for days Damian loved himself, and Tim could look into a mirror. They were for days all of them could bear the burden of their own actions. Today was not such a day.

Today was Christmas, even if none of them believed in God. Today was Christmas even if they had no presents and a stolen tree decorated with love and plastic trash.

Dick was just settling down in front of the fire, Damian pressed against his side, when they heard the sound of wheels crushing snow coming from the driveway. It didn’t take long for him to guess just what was going on, and before he knew it… Tim was standing in the hallway of the cabin, coat pulled tight around him.

His hair was windswept, and his eyes red rimmed, but Tim was here.

“Hey, Happy Holidays, I thought… maybe I wasn’t too late yet.”

Dick found himself smiling when he replied:

“Nah, you came at the perfect time.”

And he did.

_ Heat crushing Dick’s limbs, arms pulling him down. Someone was choking him, but Dick couldn’t see who it was. _

_ There was pain in his chest. _

_ Pain in his heart. _

_ Why couldn’t he breathe? _

_ Everything was so heavy and so cold and so hot and… _

The nightmare wanted to drag him back down, its claws deep in Dick’s flesh, but Dick wouldn’t let the horror win. Couldn’t let it win.

If it won… some nights Dick was afraid he would never wake up again.

Not tonight, however. Dick’s tired eyes scanned his room, the last tendrils of sleep making his thoughts lazy. There was… someone was with him in the room, and it took too long for Dick to realize that it was Damian, who was looking at him.

It was Damian, sitting next to him in bed, hair sticking up in every direction, who looked at him and said:

“I have nightmares, too. There is always a sword pulling me apart… and in the worst of them, I can’t even save you.”

A piece of Dick broke – another one healed. He pulled his boy down, until Damian was hugging him, and shared his warmth with him. The dread that followed a dreamer into reality was easier to bear with a loved one by your side.

“I always suffocate – and sometimes you are there as well. Dying, when I can’t even cry for help. But you are here. You are alive. And so am I. _ I am alive _ .”

“I’m here, too. The brat as well.”

A new voice, and when Dick looked up, it was Jason staring back. His brother stood in the threshold of Dick’s room, arms crossed, expression thunderous… but there was something soft in his posture as well. Something that reminded him of the broken aura Jason had had as he stared into the flames of a dead fire.

“Wanna cuddle?”

“No, but Tim’s making hot chocolate and he brought everything to bake gingerbread cookies… if none of us can sleep… maybe we could-“

Jason stopped, but Dick heard him anyways.

“Yeah, we could. I’ll… we’ll be down in a moment.”

With a nod Jason left. Dick looked at Damian, at the fear and the love and the reality of their situation… this was his kid. This was his life.

Maybe one day it would even be a good life.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah… I love you too, Richard.”

“Good… and now let’s go downstairs before Jason drinks all the cocoa.”

Damian went with him – and when Dick stepped into the living room, smells of cinnamon and clove heavy in the air, the straw stars decorating the tree catching his eye, he was reminded of winters’ past. He was reminded of memories he didn’t even have – but always dreamed off.

Yeah, maybe one day they would have good lives. Until then they had each other. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, Kudos and Bookmarks make an author happy!


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